Concerning Hobbits
by theoncomingdrizzle
Summary: Sherlock remains convinced that John is a Hobbit. Established relationship but not really much romance...


John shifted in his sleep as the Consulting Detective crouched at the end of the bed, gently touching his feet whilst trying not to wake him. He had a magnifying clasped in his hand and was scanning the soles, absorbing every little detail only to be interrupted by an exasperated, "Sherlock!" accompanied by a shove which resulted in him falling off the bed with a thud, long limbs flailing.  
"What was that for?" He scowled petulantly and moved to perch on the edge of the bed. "Yes, you are really in a position to ask _me_ what I am doing." John retorted, glaring at the younger man as he waited for an answer.  
The silence enveloped around them as they both stared into each other's eyes, waiting for the other to snap. Finally Sherlock spoke, "Do you shave your feet?" John spluttered, his flatmate never ceased to amaze him. "No I don't!" He groaned as he pulled the cover over his head, "Go away" his muffled voice came from underneath. "Are you sure you're a man?" He continued, pulling the sheet down to expose John's face. "Really, you of all people should know that I am a man."  
"So, you're not remotely hobbit-like then?" Sherlock asked, a grin spread across his face watching the change in his friend's expression as all became clear. "I am not a bloody hobbit!" he shrieked as Sherlock stood "Oh, but I think you are." He chuckled and walked out leaving John to sulk on the bed.

"I really hope this isn't another of your experiments that most likely pose a significant risk to all in a 10 mile radius." John announced, inspecting the burnt toast (and the what must have been half a jar of jam on top) with caution and ignoring the man sitting opposite, who replied "It's breakfast, obviously."  
"Well... err. Thanks, but I've already had breakfast" He stated, pushing the plate across the table towards Sherlock, a little bewildered as to why he had bothered to make breakfast, especially alongside a case. "What about second breakfast?" Sherlock smirked in reply. To this the shorter man gingerly picked up the sticky mess off his plate and flung it towards his insufferable lover, striking him in the face. A yelp of surprise came from his direction and he began to attempt to clean himself up whilst John was struggling to keep a straight face, "Not a hobbit." he added, suppressing a chuckle as he looked up to meet Sherlock's glare and opened his laptop to continue typing up their latest case.

He blinked his eyes several times, brought to consciousness by the screeching of a violin. Sherlock's violin. John took a deep breath, attempting to contain his utter annoyance at being woken up at God knows when. The sound died down, allowing him to close his eyes gently and try to drift back to sleep, only for it to start up again with much more vigour. That's it, John thought to himself, hastily pulling on some clothes and storming down the stairs. "For goodness sake, it's four in the morning and you're playing the bloody violin! Your superior intellect may allow you to neglect your body's needs but I still need to sleep." Sherlock continued playing, a resigned sigh escaping John's lips as it dawned on him exactly what song it was.  
"But it's called concerning Hobbits, John. It's the song of your people!"  
"I am aware of what it is called, and I am not a hobbit!"

Sherlock took the steaming mug of tea out of John's grasp, "Would you take it?" he asked nonchalantly. "Take what?" John mumbled in reply, eyes narrowed in thought.

"The ring, would you take it?" Sherlock clarified exasperatedly, hands gesturing wildly in the air. John paused, failing to see what was so urgent about this question. "I suppose I would, if it meant saving people."  
"Even if I was the one to give it to you?" The Detective added, raising an eyebrow. He stepped forward, closing the gap between him and the smaller man. "I don't understand..."  
The confusion spread across John's face gradually turned to shock as the detective sunk to one knee, bright eyes looking up at him and hand reaching deep into his pocket, bringing out a golden band.


End file.
